


the closest thing to a home

by uptillthree



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14133255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptillthree/pseuds/uptillthree
Summary: A truth: Sirius was not, in any way, prepared for or in want of a child.It was not that he was too immature or free-spirited to think about ‘settling down'. No; the truth was that the idea of parenting—of a young child’s attitude and manners and beliefs in his reckless irresponsible hands—terrifiedhim. But the second truth, one no less important, was that just because he felt neither ready nor deserving to raise Harry did not, in any way, mean he did notwantto.(Sirius is released from Azkaban and moves back in with Remus when Harry is eight years old. This is not a chance he is willing to waste.)





	1. an aftermath eight years late

**Author's Note:**

> this is just ur classic cliche wolfstar + sirius raises harry au, there's not really going to be much plot, good luck

i.

If the stress and flurry of events hadn’t so completely overwhelmed Sirius, he would have been incredibly annoyed— at the Ministry, at Dumbledore, and at the Dursleys, not necessarily in that order.

As it was, his emotional capacity had already been all used up the moment he got out of Azkaban: relief (the so-relieved-you-just-started-crying kind), fury (also the crying kind), hope (crying again), and grief (full-on sobbing) descended upon him all at once, exhausting and relentless.

It was Remus, he’d learn later from Dumbledore (very nearly driving him to tears once again), Remus who had been on the edge of desperation himself, jobless and loveless and friendless. Remus, one of Hogwarts’ fucking  _ top graduates, _  driven to working temporary, low-paying jobs and housework because no long-term employer would  _ take _  him after seeing the  _ WEREWOLF  _ stamped on his resume. It was ridiculous. It was  _ unfair. _

Remus had gone to the Weasleys, Dumbledore told Sirius, to help Molly with the garden and housework and goblin-banishing for some small pay— and then, he’d met bright little Percy and his curious pet rat.

Sirius did not have to have Remus tell him the whole story to imagine how things had gone from there.

ii.

Harry was smaller and skinnier than James was at that age.

Or, Sirius inferred that he was. James had always been an unfairly tall person, and Lily too was far from petite.

Still, that was not the most worrying thing. Harry had a sort of unnatural quiet about him. He had a habit of walking directly behind Remus and Sirius, as though to become forgotten, as though he didn’t like having his back to anyone, wide-eyed, hands curled into the front of his shirt.

He hardly spoke a word during the entire ride to Remus’ flat.

It was  _ unnerving. _  Sirius had half a mind to charge back into Petunia Dursley's disgustingly clean house and demand answers. Harry had Lily’s wide, curious eyes and none of James’ unstoppable talk as they climbed up the stairs to Remus’ home. It reminded Sirius of the way Remus had been, on their first meeting—he’d met him in the most cliche possible way, in a rusty compartment on the train to Hogwarts, and Remus had answered all of his questions with hesitant, one-word answers, yes or no or a shrug, and Sirius had not known what to make of it, but still, he had been charmed, in a way.

“You’re my—dad?”

Remus, in the process of unlocking the door to his flat, went still at that small voice. Looked at Sirius, who was already looking at him in a frantic sort of way.

“Um,” Harry muttered, “sorry—”

“No!” Sirius said, too loudly. He winced. “I mean, don’t apologize, Harry—”

Remus had crouched down to speak to him, eye-level. “I’m afraid we’re not related by blood, Harry. We were close friends of your mother and father, Sirius and I.”

“When your Mom and Dad had you, Harry, he—I promised to take care of you, in case anything happened to them. But I—um—yeah, technically speaking, we  _ are  _ your guardians.”

“So we  _ are  _ family,” Remus amended, smiling, and it was a smile that Sirius had seen very rarely lately.

“Or the closest thing to it,” said Sirius, and he was smiling a smile that he’d felt very rarely lately, too. “We just weren’t… able to take care of you, for a while. So we’re sorry, mate.”

Harry was blinking at him as though he’d never had an adult apologize to him in his life. “Oh,” he said. “That’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and finally he was smiling back. “I. I’d always hoped, that, um—” He flushed. “I used to dream that, maybe my  _ real  _ family just got held up, or maybe they were looking for me, and, and one day they’d actually come! And I just had to be patient, and, and.” Harry bit his lip, and he was looking at Sirius like he was the answer to some unheard prayer, and fuck, but Sirius didn’t know if he could hold that gaze for any longer. “And you  _ came.” _

Silently, wordlessly, because his throat was too tight to speak, Sirius turned the key in the lock, the door swinging open. He stepped in. Turned on the lights. Remus’ flat was very homey, shabby as it was. It reminded him, a little, of the flat he and Remus had shared, before— before. 

He hoped Harry liked it.  Sirius swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Welcome home, Harry.”

iii.

While Harry was off falling in love with Remus’ flat—looking at dusty books and mismatched furniture and his  _ room  _ (he seemed very excited to have a room) —Remus caught Sirius’ eye, raised his eyebrows, and murmured, “You can’t afford  _ not  _ to be a responsible adult anymore, Sirius.”

_ “Fuck,” _  Sirius said with feeling, because Remus was perfectly right.

Remus laughed at him, bumping elbows companionably, and then he was unlocking the doors to the adjacent bedroom. “Harry’s room used to be my office of sorts. Just books and things—but I’ve put in a bed and a closet for him,” he said. “It’s, well. There’s only one other room, so we sleep there.”

The redness creeping up his neck and ears and cheeks was  _ adorable.  _ “Alright,” Sirius said, grinning.  _ Nothing we haven’t done before, _  he wanted to say, and carefully told himself to shut the fuck up. The palm of his hand itched to hold Remus’; to reach up and cup Remus’ chin and  _ kiss _  him, but—well.

There had been an unusual fragility in their relationship since Azkaban, in what they were to each other, in what they had been. Sirius was loath to shatter it.

(It was  _ annoying. _  Sirius and Remus had been so many things, but Sirius had never remembered a time where they’d been in this strange limbo, this unfamiliarity, this  _ awkward.) _

(He had to fix it, and fucking  _ soon.) _

Remus sent him a look. “Shut up, Sirius.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

iv.

A truth: Sirius was not, in any way, prepared for or in want of a child.

It was not that he was too immature or free-spirited to think about ‘settling down,’ in those precious few years post-Hogwarts, pre-Azkaban (he had taken to calling it that now, dividing his life in eras). Although that was certainly what most people assumed of him, that his attitude was not yet suited to adulthood. But the truth was that back then, he had already  _ found  _ that—that incredible, wonderful feeling of stability and contentment and  _ joy _ —with Remus.

No; the truth was that (if Sirius ever decided to be completely honest with himself, which was not often) the idea of parenting  _ terrified _  him. The truth was that neither Sirius nor Remus were glowing examples of brilliant, happy childhoods, and the idea of another person’s life, a young child’s attitude and manners and beliefs in  _ his  _ reckless irresponsible hands—no. That terrified him.

But the second truth, which was one no less important, was that just because he felt neither ready nor deserving to raise Harry did not, in any way, mean he did not  _ want  _ to.

v.

“Your home is  _ super  _ messy,” Harry said that evening at dinner, eyes bright, then bit his lip as though his comment might not be appreciated.

Remus just laughed. “I know, Harry, I’m sorry. I haven’t had time to fix it up again, though we will soon. Sirius just wanted to pick you up first at the soonest possibility—”

“No, no, I meant—” Harry shrugged. “Aunt Petunia  _ always _  wanted everything clean and tidy, so—well, she’d hate it here, but. It’s  _ really  _ interesting.”

Remus blinked. “Oh?”

“Yeah! She’d hate how old the books are, and how weird the furniture is,  _ and  _ there’s no TV—but I think it’s really cool! So, I mean, I—I love it. Here.” And he flushed.

“Well,” Remus said to himself, with a very honest pride. “Well, you hear that, Sirius? My flat is  _ cool.” _


	2. to repair with gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “On the surface, Harry was a quiet kid. Bright, helpful, sweet. Never complained about a thing.
> 
> Remus was helplessly charmed. Sirius was not fooled.
> 
> The kid had still made sure his room couldn’t be locked from the outside before going in, and he still locked the door every night. By magic. Harry probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh i am. so sorry this took so long. real life is..... a Lot. but. thank u so much for all ur comments and feedback, ur all so wonderful!! there’s going to be one more chapter, and then an epilogue. probably i’ll finish it before the end of the month. probably.

i.

On the surface, Harry was a quiet kid. Bright, helpful, sweet. Never complained about a thing.

Remus was helplessly charmed. Sirius was not fooled.

The kid had still made sure his room couldn’t be locked from the outside before going in, and he still locked the door every night. By magic. Harry probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“He’s something,” Remus said, the third night.

“Of course he is,” Sirius replied. “He’s Lily and Prongs’ kid.”

“You checked on him?”

“I tried. Door was locked. There’s a charm that’ll tell us if something’s wrong, anyway.”

“The door doesn’t have a lock—”

“Exactly. I figure he deserves some privacy. Been a long week for all of us.”

They were sitting in the kitchen, Sirius stirring a cup of coffee while Remus checked on the wards. It was still nothing like Sirius’ old house in London, but Remus would be damned if the place wasn’t warded to hell and back, for Harry’s safety most of all. To a Muggle, nothing was out of place, but any wizard could take in one breath and tell that this place was under protection.

“You know, you could be a cursebreaker with that skill. A wardmaster, at least.”

“Mm.” There was a wry smile curling Remus’ lips. “It’d be nice, though I haven’t got the credentials.”

“You’re still looking for work?”

“Yes. I’ve got three new interviews tomorrow, but… none of them are very hopeful.”

Sirius’ coffee slammed down on the table with more force than necessary. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’m being realistic, Sirius.”

“Well—who cares, anyway. You don’t have to get a job, you know I could just support you with my inheritance—”

“I am not going to live off someone else’s charity, Sirius.” There was a hint of steel in Remus’ voice now.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “It’s not charity, it’s called my _friendship,_ you twit. And if you’re living off my damn charity, then what does that make me and Harry?” He laughed. “We’re literally living in your flat.”

“You have an entire ancestral home that you could—”

“Merlin’s sake, Moony, you know you’d have to _Incarcerous_ and physically drag me back to Grimmauld Place to get me to stay there for any length of time. Listen—I know you want a job, and I’m not trying to stop you, honestly, but you don’t have to worry about money. Honestly. Just let me pull a bit of my own weight here.”

Remus was shaking his head, smiling with some mixture of fondness and exasperation. “Fine,” he said. “You win.”

And their days and nights passed like that.

Mornings were spent making breakfast together before Remus left in search of work (well—Sirius tried; though Harry and Remus usually had breakfast covered). Sirius could get a job of his own if he wanted to, he knew, but there was Harry to look after, and after Azkaban, well. He wasn’t keen on returning to Auror work. Maybe in time.

For now, spending time with Harry and teaching him about the Wizarding World was enough of a job. There was so much the boy still didn’t know that it worried Sirius, though Remus reminded him often that Muggle-borns were simply thrust into the Wizarding World with the same lack of knowledge.

 _But that’s just the thing,_ Sirius wanted to say. _Harry isn’t just any Muggle-born._

Sirius reserved his nights for a cup of tea or cocoa or Firewhiskey—if the day called for it—with Remus, talking into dawn, or at least until one of them fell asleep. How strange, Sirius thought, that they seemed to have the capacity to talk about everything but themselves.

If some nights ended with Remus staring at Sirius’ lips, or Sirius leaning too close, an echo of a familiarity that wasn’t there anymore, neither of them mentioned it.

“What are we going to do after summer?” Remus asked on another night. They were in the living room, for a change. It was a bad idea; Sirius had put his feet up on the coffee table and found himself ready to go to bed right there.

“What d’you mean?”

Remus laughed at him. “Harry needs to go to school.”

Sirius’ eyes, which had been falling shut, blinked open again. He sat up. “School…”

“He should be in, what? Year 4 now? I guess we could homeschool him, but…”

“Well, he’s not going to a Muggle school,” Sirius declared. “It’s not worth the trouble.”

Remus was silent, so it meant he agreed.

“September’s still a few months off,” Sirius said. He might have been trying to comfort himself. “We have time.”

“I suppose.” Remus put his feet up beside Sirius, leaning back. “We haven’t even told him anything yet. About how James and Lily died, and Peter, and why—everything. I don’t even know where to start.”

Sirius laughed weakly. “You’re really asking the hard questions tonight, aren’t you?”

“Well, we’re going to need answers at some point.” Despite his relaxed pose, there was a thin line of frustration in Remus’ voice. “Harry doesn’t ask, but I’m certain he _wants_ to. He deserves to know what happened to Lily and James, why he had to stay with—”

“It’s not that he doesn’t deserve to know, it’s just that I think he deserves a break too, is that so bad—”

“Of course not, but we can’t just—” There was a creak as one of the doors opened. Remus sat up. “Harry.”

Sirius turned in his seat. Harry was standing in the hallway, pale and tense. He had the exact, wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights look that reminded Sirius explicitly of James.

“Oh,” Harry said. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting Remus and Sirius to be up; it was nearing two in the morning. “Um.”

Carefully, Sirius asked, “Something wake you up, mate?”

“No?” Harry glanced around. “I was just, um. Looking for the bathroom?”

Remus laughed, not unkindly. “Bathroom’s beside your room, remember, Harry? Left side.”

Harry went red. “Right. Sorry, I’ll just—”

He made to turn back, but Sirius lifted his mug. “S’Alright. Remus could make you hot chocolate, if you like.”

ii.

Settled beside Sirius and Remus with a cup of hot chocolate, Harry looked unreasonably wary.

“Sorry if we surprised you,” Remus said. “We usually stay up a little late.”

Harry glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past two, now.

“Well,” Remus amended. “More than a little late, tonight.”

“We have a lot to catch up on, Moony and I,” Sirius said.

Harry blinked. “Moony?”

It was Sirius’ turn to be surprised. He supposed it was stupid of him to think that Harry should understand his father’s history—their history, the Marauders’ history—as if on instinct. “It’s my nickname for Remus.”

“...Why?”

He laughed. “Remind me to tell you the whole story tomorrow,” Sirius said, winking. “It works best as a bedtime story.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. He hadn’t touched his hot chocolate yet. “I’m too old for bedtime stories.”

“What? No one’s too old for bedtime stories!”

Harry huffed a laugh, but he looked away. “Sirius?”

“Yeah, Harry?”

Harry fidgeted, hands curling into his nightshirt again, glancing at the clock, his room, Remus’ bookshelves. Sirius and Remus waited. “If magic is real… Are there people who use magic in bad ways too?”

Sirius’ breath caught, a chill running down his fine. He knew Remus’ flat was as well-warded and safe as it could be, but still he could feel, as he had once thought he could feel in anything, the awful shadow of his father, of his mother, of Bellatrix and her master.

In the back of his mind, he thought: _Fuck, Remus was right again. I should have told him earlier._

“Yeah. Yes, Harry, you’re right.” He made himself ask: “What makes you ask that, mate?”

Harry took a deep breath. “I had this—dream.”

Sirius glanced at Remus, and knew that for the next sixty seconds neither of them would dare breathe.

“In—in my dream, I was being chased, but not really by anything. There was just this green light, and—I’m on a motorbike, flying away with someone to get away from it. Except I feel bad because I think I’ve left people behind? I keep remembering there’s a lady with red hair, but I don’t know who she is, and I think—I think I left her. Behind, I mean. And then the bike just takes me to Privet Drive anyway, because I don’t know where else to go. And I’m stuck there.”

There was a terrible silence, because neither of them seemed to know what to say to that. Sirius resisted the urge to grab the nearest pillow and scream into it.

“Oh, Harry,” Remus said. “May I hug you?”

The look of surprise on Harry’s face was awful to Sirius, but Harry nodded. Slowly, Remus moved near Harry and pulled him close to his chest.

Half-buried in Remus’ shirt, Harry muttered, “The dream changes a lot, but most times the green light is there. And there’s someone screaming. And I always end up at Privet Drive.”

“Nah, you’re here now, mate,” Sirius said hoarsely. “You’re right here, and you’re safe, Harry, I promise you that.”

iii.

Two cups of hot chocolate later, when it was closer to dawn than midnight and Harry’s breathing had evened out to the rhythm of sleep again, Sirius buried his head in his hands.

Next to him, his eyes still on Harry’s quietly sleeping face, Remus said, “It’s times like this that I really miss Lily.”

Sirius turned his head to look at him. Watched the rise and fall of his chest.

“I miss James too, of course,” Remus said, his eyes on Harry but his mind somewhere else. “But Lily… She always knew what to do, when someone was… hurt. Or needed help. Even me, when I needed help. It didn’t matter that we weren’t close friends, or that she hated you and James, at first. And she never… She never hesitated, whether it was to fight for someone or comfort them or…” He shook his head. “She just… never ran out of time for people. Including herself. You know?”

Sirius knew. When he tried to laugh, it got stuck in his throat. “Mhm. Wish she and James would come the hell down here and tell me what to do.”

Remus snorted. “I’m sure they wish they could, too.” And, maybe it was because the talk of old friends had left him feeling defenceless, maybe it was because tonight was the first time Sirius had felt something like peace in years—but Remus shifted closer and leaned his head into Sirius’s shoulder.

iv.

One week later, Sirius was forced to reform his first impression of Lily and James’ kid. Once Harry realized they weren’t going to bite his head off for every little thing, he was _loud._ The kid had a curiosity and a brightness that cheered up the whole damn room.

Today, it was the Floo. “How does it _work?”_ Harry said, eyes wide. It reminded Sirius, a little, of a younger Regulus, before everything had gone to shit. “How come it doesn’t burn when you go in?”

Sirius shrugged uncomfortably. “Erm, it’s magic, kiddo.” He’d been using that as an automatic answer to most of Harry’s questions and he had a feeling Harry wasn’t anywhere near satisfied with it.

“But isn’t it _fire?”_

“Well, yeah, technically—”

“So why doesn’t it _burn_ you? Does the magic, like, make the fire _not_ hurt? Or does it change the fire into something else? _Or_ maybe it does burn you, but the magic heals you and makes you not notice?”

“Uh,” Sirius said. “I’m not sure myself.” He and Harry just looked at each other for a moment, Harry’s questioning green eyes into Sirius’ blue ones. “Hey Remus!” Sirius yelled. “Why doesn’t Flooing burn you?”

These days Remus was more tired and stressed than ever—finding a well-paying, stable job as an adult werewolf was difficult if not impossible—but the presence of Harry and Sirius lightened the burden, or so he said. “There’s a Flame-Freezing Charm on the Floo powder,” Remus shouted back.

“Well, there you go.”

Harry was already scrambling off his chair and into the dining room, where Remus was reading the paper. “What’s a Flame-Freezer Charm? Is that why the fire goes all green? And why does it spin when you get in?”

Remus’ low laugh could be heard from where Sirius sat, and his heart warmed. “Slow down,” he was saying, and Sirius could imagine him curling one arm around Harry’s shoulders and reaching for a book with the other. “I’ll explain….”

v.

“Any luck?”

Remus sighed. Sirius hated that sigh. It sounded so tired, on the edge of desperation. “I sent out applications. Not that I’ll get accepted to any of them.”

“Oh, yeah, not with that attitude.”

Remus scowled. “Sirius, I’ve been trying to get a stable job alone for seven years. If it hasn’t happened yet, it likely never will.”

The silence was uncomfortable. Now Sirius was the one sighing, wracking his mind for a solution. Then he said, “It’s summer break.”

“I know, it just makes it harder to—”

“You could try Hogwarts.”

Remus snapped his mouth shut.

“I don’t see why not,” Sirius went on. “Dumbledore might have a position for you—”

“I’d never get it.”

“What?”

“Not even Dumbledore is going to let a grown werewolf teach hundreds of children.”

“Merlin’s sake, Remus, you could at least give it a try—”

“It’d be a waste of time—”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve got anything left to lose!”

Sirius regretted the words as soon as he’d spoken them, for Remus reacted to them as though they were a blow.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right, of course,” Remus said, shutting his eyes. “Just as you said, Sirius, I don’t have anything left.”


End file.
